Chapter 53: The Weight of Idleness
Jaejeong rose from the cot.
Dawn was breaking outside.
After hearing the manager's explanation yesterday, he'd eaten, showered, and crashed hard.
Maybe because all the tension had finally drained out of him, he'd slept like the dead without waking once.
His body ached in a dozen places, throbbing dully.
The fatigue and stress piled up from cheating death time and again wouldn't vanish overnight.
Jaejeong shook his head against the mild headache.
Craving a change of mood, he stepped out of the barracks.
The small barracks on the edge of the soldiers' zone was just the right size for him alone.
He lifted the flap covering the entrance and sat in a chair, taking a swig of water.
Clean drinking water. Distant voices of people drifting in faintly.
It was peaceful.
The world beyond the outer walls was probably still the same hellish mess, but he didn't want to think about it even for a second.
I'm safe, Jaejeong told himself over and over, stretching his arms wide.
You can't leave the barracks for three days.
That's what the manager had said.
Three days was the quarantine period.
With a major operation kicking off the day after tomorrow, they had no bandwidth to deal with him right now.
That's why they'd hold off on issuing his combat uniform and gear until after.
One day down, two to go.
He had to hole up in this barracks today and tomorrow.
Sleeping the time away sounded fine, but damn, it was boring.
Why did this sudden peace feel so oppressively heavy?
Soldiers returning from morning PT bustled about starting breakfast rations.
Rations came from the Tower.
Once a day, several massive trucks loaded with food rolled out from there.
They passed the guarded fences, entered the base, and distributed supplies squad by squad with machine-like efficiency.
The odd part? Trucks carrying about half the remaining food would head to the next zone.
And they wouldn't return empty until much later.
He wanted to go.
To the boundary zone, to see his group.
Just one day apart, and it felt like ages.
He hadn't shown it, but he'd grown genuinely attached to them without realizing.
Sharing life-and-death struggles forged bonds no amount of time could match.
Their faces flashed in his mind, one by one.
Lee Beom-sik.
That gangster bastard.
But a decent guy, all things considered.
The more you saw of him, the more you liked him.
You wanted to beat the shit out of him sometimes, but there was something pitiful about the guy too.
Model-long limbs, a face that could make women swoon, hiding a beastly temperament and freakish physical prowess.
Beom-sik was a tiger in wolf's clothing.
Kang Youngman.
Beard covering half his face, exotic features.
Deep double eyelids that didn't scream Korean, a build rare even among the old-timers.
His booming voice exploded like firecrackers, his decisiveness outpacing any kid half his age.
Agile moves with no trace of age, sharp instincts to boot.
The man was a soldier to his bones.
Kang Minyoung.
A doctor with fierce self-sacrifice.
Full of humanity.
But with ice-cold decisions at the most unexpected moments.
Stubbornly acting on her own thoughts, unexpectedly ruthless.
Yet she'd tremble like an aspen at tales of the infected.
An enigma who committed murder for the greater good, guilt be damned.
She was utterly impossible to pin down.
Anna.
Archery skills worthy of the title divine archer.
A natural genius who might've shattered world records sooner without her injury.
That's how Jaejeong saw it.
Hot-tempered beyond most men, obsessive once hooked.
Carefree on the surface, but quick to crumble in crises.
Lee Hyun-soo.
The idiot swinging a frying pan with broken fingers, oblivious to the pain.
So sentimental he grieved Kim Chaemin's death—after just days together—harder than anyone.
Seemed quick-witted, but mostly spouted nonsense like a prankster.
Still, there was a shadow of hidden pain.
Along with those five faces came memories of the dead.
They'd made it to the safe zone, at least.
Jaejeong had kept his promise, and everyone was safe.
But this wasn't the end.
A new beginning.
No guarantees the safe zone would last forever, mountains of problems ahead.
Still better than outside.
A thousand times better.
No more rotting corpse stench, no constant dread of attacks from nowhere.
No infected ripping people apart alive, no dust storms from their hordes.
Not perfect, not quite what he'd imagined.
But it was a safe zone.
With a twinge of satisfaction, Jaejeong paced the barracks, deciding to make up for lost workouts.
He eyed his body.
He'd neglected it, but no flab—just solid muscle.
Nearly a week without real food had stripped him to muscle and bone.
Push-ups, sit-ups—whatever fit the tight space, he hammered out.
Soon, wiping sweat, he stepped out for cool air and a breather.
Thinking it over, he felt a spark of irritation.
They called it waiting, but it was just "stay put, you're a hassle."
And his smokes were running low.
Jaejeong stuffed the last few cigs in his pocket.
Evening fell. After a full day without speaking, he tried his voice alone.
It came out raspy, like a parched throat.
Just one day silent, and his voice felt off.
He stepped out, gazing at the night sky.
Unbelievable.
Stars everywhere.
First time in Seoul seeing this many.
Even when factories worldwide halted from some past pandemic, it hadn't been like this.
Another day gone.
The last day of waiting arrived.
He ate, showered, and fretted over how to kill the day.
What to do? What to think to make time fly?
Jaejeong wasn't used to idle time like this.
Always chased by the clock, tangled in complicated shit.
Dealing with challengers, plotting his path and future all at once.
So this silence and leisure drove him mad.
Sleep wouldn't come, fatigue a distant memory.
Apathy beyond exhaustion crushed his limbs.
Then—
Thud. Thud.
Army boots crunching closer.
First visitor in two days.
Jaejeong shot up and peeked out.
Kim Chan-yeol, the corporal he'd shared smokes with day one, stood there.
"Oh, Kim Chan-yeol."
"Must be bored out of your mind, sir."
"Obviously. Come in."
"Yes, sir."
Kim pulled two sodas from his bulging hardtack pocket.
Jaejeong's face lit up.
"What's this?"
"Snuck 'em when I was out. Bored stiff, right?"
"Going crazy, for real."
"Figured a big guy like you sitting still all day would lose it. Even without that, yeah, sir."
"How'd you know?"
"We did the same as rookies in HQ squad. Week-long waits, staring at TV all day. Couldn't talk even if seniors poked us, smokes only on schedule. Bathroom runs needed permission, sir."
"I'm no rookie. Why stick me here?"
Jaejeong grumbled like it was unfair.
"You're kinda like a rookie yourself, sir. Big for one, but still. Prep's chaos with ops coming, so yeah. Cut 'em slack."
"Siding with your own 'cause you're military. How's a reservist a rookie?"
"Fair... What unit were you in, sir?"
"Me? Yeah. Some badass place you've never heard of."
Kim snorted mid-sip.
"What? Don't buy it?"
"My dad said the same. All big talkers were defense duty."
"This punk saying bullshit..."
"You won't tell me, sir."
"Don't pry too much. You'll know when it's time. So, what's this op prep?"
Jaejeong crushed his soda can, asking.
"Don't pry too much, sir. You'll know when..."
"This guy's for real!"
"Can't I joke around?"
"Joking with a senior? Get lost."
Kim chuckled awkwardly, downed the rest, then spoke up.
"Op to expand the safe zone in a few days. But pre-recon first today. Scout routes, check safety. Mart and gas station area—central, so zombie central. Cleaning 'em out, we'll lose guys for sure. Brass is scheming to minimize numbers."
"Killing that many one by one while moving?"
"No choice, sir. Ammo's low too. Bayonets? Stab one, three pile on... Dunno. Heading out soon—wonder if we'll make it back. And..."
"And?"
Jaejeong eyed Kim's grim face.
Kim slumped, sighing like the earth might cave in.
"Our squad leader's the division commander's only son. With all the generals MIA, he's de facto top dog."
"Sounds good."
"Nah. Every outing, he pushes for glory, tweaks ops recklessly—guys die. Still at it. Hopeless. Knows jack about combat, just a kid playing war. Doesn't even fight himself."
"What kinda orders?"
Jaejeong asked seriously.
If it was really some war-game brat, no laughing matter.
Not like Jaejeong could do shit, but desperation brings confessions to the confined.
"Pushes too hard, everything. Tons of loot grabs. Like zombie gems—guys touched 'dead' ones, got swarmed. Plenty more. Nowhere to vent, my crew's all green—came here."
"No sergeants?"
"Those assholes? Still clueless, whining about last days—who plans ops with them? Not all, but."
"Must suck for you."
Kim fell silent.
They scanned the surroundings wordlessly for a while.
Eventually, fidgety Jaejeong stood first.
"What can ya do? Stay sharp, survive. Not dying on us, right?"
"That's your pep talk?"
"Hey, no choice sometimes. Live first. Shoulders back, man."
Jaejeong clapped Kim's shoulder.
"Yes, sir. Got it. No smoke today?"
"Running low. Bro'll hook you up later."
"Nah. Here."
Kim neatly placed a fresh pack on the cot.
"Take it. Think I'm a beggar?"
"Beggars smoke? Can't owe folks. That was half the reason. Hard to find more. Stay safe. See ya after."
Kim left.
Alone, Jaejeong stared at the pack.
"Damn guy's too nice."
Feeling awkward, he pocketed it anyway.
Infected People